“Would you please stop moving,” Rebecca said. Her voice was hushed and with a distinct trace of irritation to it.
Daniel stilled on a sigh and stretched out his legs. “I’m sorry,” he whispered back, “but I’m not used to sleeping like this.”
There was a beat and then the inevitable question: “What do you mean?”
A wide smile spread its way across Daniel’s face. “I never sleep in any of my attire but always completely and utterly nude.” It sounded as if she sucked in a breath. His smile broadened. “Wearing even so much as my unmentionables is causing me severe discomfort, though I am more than happy to oblige for your sake. Considering that you wanted separate rooms, I thought you’d disapprove of discovering me in such a . . . bare state. Am I correct?”
“Y-yes. I mean . . . of course,” she muttered, and then, “thank you.”
Really, he ought to be commended for his ability to suppress a grin in response to her befuddlement. It was most amusing. “You are welcome,” he murmured. There was a moment’s silence before he added, “Sleep well.”
“You too,” she whispered back.
Thankfully, his tiredness trumped his discomfort, and it didn’t take too long before Daniel slipped off to sleep, his dreams filled with the woman he was planning to marry, and of what their first night together could have been like had she not seen him kissing Lady Vernon. Naturally, he awoke to a state of complete and utter discomfort, though this time it had nothing to do with his clothing. Turning his head, he almost came nose to nose with Rebecca. She was so beautiful with her long black lashes fanned out against her bronzed skin. His gaze slipped to her lips, luscious lips that had felt so perfect when he’d last kissed her.
He wanted to kiss her again right now, but he stopped himself, unsure of how she’d react, considering how strained everything had been between them last night. Tomorrow he would marry her. If he wanted to kiss her, then why shouldn’t he? Because she doesn’t want you to, an annoying voice told him. With a sigh, Daniel rolled over and got out of bed, retrieving his garments and dressing with the briskness of a man who desperately needed to remove himself from temptation if he was to avoid succumbing to it.
He needed air. Lots and lots of cool morning air to dampen his ardor. Shrugging into his jacket, he did up the buttons and headed for the door, placing as much distance between himself and Rebecca as the small room allowed. Dear God, the covers had slipped lower on her and he could see . . . his mouth went dry and he tried to swallow. A gentleman would look away, but Daniel was no gentleman, or at least his eyes were not in the least bit noble, for they remained quite determinedly fixed on the gentle rise and fall of her bosom. Was she aware that the soft outline of each breast was visible beneath her nightgown? Probably not, for it appeared to be chaste in design, but with the morning light streaming through the window even the dark center of each breast was revealed. Daniel blinked.
Lord help me.
“Rebecca,” he said, hoping to wake her. She shifted a little and the covers slid sideways, offering Daniel a first-rate view of one of her long legs, half bare since her nightgown had crawled all the way up past her knees. “Rebecca,” he repeated, louder this time, and was afforded a groan. “It’s time to wake up so we can be on our way.”
Her eyes opened and she met his gaze, surprise registering upon her face. “You’re already fully dressed.”
“Yes. I’ll leave so you can do the same. If you hurry, we may have time for some breakfast before we depart.” And then he opened the door and fled without another backward glance.
“What a perfect day to get married,” Rebecca said, surprising him with her cheerfulness as they drove along beneath a clear blue sky.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Daniel said. She seemed her usual self this morning and he was happy for it, since an unhappy demeanor didn’t suit her in the least. Perhaps everything would be all right between them after all. He hoped so, though he couldn’t forget what she’d said in regards to their marriage or how distant and standoffish she’d been toward him since leaving London.
Watching the horses toss their manes, he considered addressing the issue but decided against it. She’d mistaken what she’d seen at the ball for something more than what it really was. He’d thought her upset about it, but then she’d voiced her support, and he’d been left with the impression that what he’d taken to be annoyance had been nothing more than the emotional turmoil of having to adapt to a different situation altogether. She’d made her opinion clear: he was nothing more than a rake who was rescuing a damsel in distress, not only for her benefit but for his as well, and while she appreciated him for doing so, he ought not delude himself that he would ever amount to anything more in her eyes.
But what if he proved her wrong? After making her acquaintance, he had no desire for the company of any other women. Surely he would be able to convince her of that if he set his mind to it. But was that even something she would want? When she’d spoken, she’d sounded so insistent on the whole marriage of convenience idea that he’d felt whatever hope he’d started to have of sharing something more with her begin to dwindle. Surely she wouldn’t have suggested such a thing if she’d developed feelings for him that went beyond those of friendship.
What was he thinking? Of course she wouldn’t have. They’d barely known each other a week, and he certainly wasn’t in love with her either, although he definitely liked her a lot—more than any other woman he’d ever met, and that made him want to do right by her. It bothered him that she was so willing to let him stray. Perhaps with time they would form a closer bond and this would change, but until then, he would try to put a bit more effort into romancing her. After all, he’d barely had a chance to do so.
A thought struck him: they still had their wedding night ahead of them. The corner of his lips edged upward. Poor Becky, she had no idea of what she was getting herself into by marrying a rake.
“How long until we arrive?” she asked once they’d passed through Penrith.
“Another hour, I’d imagine.”
“Then don’t you think it’s time we got to know each other a bit better?”
Daniel glanced toward her. “What do you have in mind?”
“Well, I suppose most couples have the fortune of engaging in a lengthy courtship before either of them agrees to the permanence of marriage, but since we’ve been tossed together somewhat abruptly, we haven’t really had much opportunity to do so. All we have are a few brief conversations. So what I propose is that we start asking each other questions, anything at all that we want to know. The only rule is that the person being asked must answer with complete honesty. I think it will strengthen our bond and improve our regard for each other.”
Or diminish it.
“Very well,” Daniel said, eager for the easy, carefree banter that he’d gotten used to enjoying with her. “Would you like to go first?”
“Certainly.” She bit her lip for a second before asking, “What’s the naughtiest thing you ever did as a child?”
He glanced sideways at her for a moment, then returned his attention to the road ahead and said, “I think I’d have to say pouring a bucket of water over my grandmamma.”
Rebecca gasped. “Surely you didn’t.”
“On the contrary, I got her quite wet.”
She couldn’t help herself from laughing. “What on earth would have possessed you?”
Daniel chuckled as he whipped the horses onward. “My parents and I had gone to visit Grandmamma and Grandpapa for a couple of weeks at their country estate one year. It was summer, and as we were sitting outside one day, Grandmamma began complaining about the heat. Papa suggested that she ought to go for a swim in the lake in order to cool off, but she dismissed the idea, saying that she was too old for that sort of thing.”
“So you decided to see to her comfort by soaking her through?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes. I was only five years old at the time, and while Grandmamma and Grandpapa took it rather well, my parents didn’t find it the least bit amusing and promptly sent me to my room.”
“Oh dear.”
Daniel shrugged. “It’s all right. They felt bad about it the next day and instructed the cook to prepare my favorite sweet—crêpes with raspberry marmalade.”
“Sounds delicious,” Rebecca said. “Now it’s your turn. Ask me anything you like.”
“Are you musically inclined?” Most ladies of breeding sang or played an instrument. He was curious if the same could be said of Rebecca.
“Not particularly, though I do like to whistle.”
“Whistle?”
“Precisely.” And then, to prove her point, she puckered her lips and did just that.
Daniel almost lost control of the horses. “That was er . . . hmm.”
Rebecca laughed. “It’s quite all right, you know. I’m well aware that I cannot carry a tune, hence the reason I don’t play an instrument. The music teacher I had as a child eventually deemed me impossible to work with. What can I say? I suppose I lack the ear for it.”
There was something so endearing about the way she said it, not to mention her unabashed performance, that Daniel felt his heart swell a little more for her. He loved that she didn’t feel embarrassed whistling in front of him even though she knew well enough that her tune was false.
“How about you?” she asked. “Are you fond of the arts?”
“I don’t paint or write and I’m not very musical either, though I do like to sing when I’m alone.”
“Really?” Her eyes widened with interest. “How about a demonstration?”
Not the least bit self-conscious but feeling rather cheeky instead, Daniel started belting out one of his favorite tunes, while Rebecca squealed with laughter. “She tells me with claret she cannot agree, and she thinks of a hogshead when e’er she sees me!”
Ten minutes later Rebecca had picked up the words and joined him with equal gusto, though she sounded like a dying cat as she hollered, “For I smell like a beast and therefore must I, resolve to forsake her or claret deny.”
Their questioning quite forgotten due to the song, they continued like this until they rolled into Gretna Green, the camaraderie between them restored to what it had been the night of the Kingsborough Ball. Daniel was thankful for it. He hadn’t enjoyed the seriousness and the quiet pensiveness that had settled over them after leaving London and was pleased to have finally overcome it. Rebecca was once again her vibrant self—the woman whose carefree nature had first sparked his interest.
“This will do,” he said, pulling the phaeton over at a modest-looking establishment and helping Rebecca down.
Allowing a groom to handle the horses, Daniel escorted Rebecca inside, where they were greeted by a large man who stood behind the bar in the taproom, his arms resting on a counter as he chatted with a couple of customers seated across from him.